The Charge

The Case

Between 1998 and 2010, Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks played a major role in
creating three superbly-crafted, definitive explorations of World War II. The
first was Spielberg's much-lauded Saving Private Ryan, a film that begins
with an unflinching recreation of D-Day before settling in on an examination of
several men attempting to complete a deadly mission. In the wake of that film's
success, Spielberg and Hanks used their considerable influence to get two
massive, wildly ambitious miniseries off the ground: 2001's Band of
Brothers and 2010's The Pacific.

Band of Brothers details the lives of the men of Easy Company, from
their intense training in Toccoa, Georgia to their heroic exploits during the
Battle of Normandy to their hellish stay in Bastogne to their discovery of a
concentration camp near the end of the war. Ordinarily, an undertaking of this
size at this length would be economically unfeasible, but the filmmakers were
devoted to bringing the realities of the war to life regardless of the cost. At
the time it was created, it was the most expensive television miniseries ever
made, but the investment was worthwhile: you'll be hard-pressed to find ten
hours of television better than Band of Brothers, a series that arguably
eclipses even Saving Private Ryan as an intensely moving tribute to the
men who sacrificed their lives in that conflict.

From time to time, Band of Brothers has been unfairly criticized as
jingoistic flag-waving, a miniseries so intent on paying tribute to heroes that
it brushes aside nuance. Such statements are nonsensical claims made by
individuals who aren't really paying attention. One of Band of Brothers'
great strengths is that it never ignores the dark side of war, even during its
most stirring depictions of heroism. Indeed, the final chapter of the miniseries
spends as much time detailing the psychological breakdowns, ugly behavior and
reckless foolishness which accompanied the final days of the war as it does
paying tribute to the good men we've come to know over the course of the series.
While the series certainly doesn't ignore the motivations for the war (indeed,
the penultimate chapter is an extraordinarily moving hour of television which is
aptly entitled "Why We Fight"), it offers a complex examination of the
notion that men in foxholes aren't fighting for ideals or country so much as
they're fighting for each other.

There are some standout performances from the superb young cast -- Damian
Lewis (Life) as the level-headed and empathetic Maj. Richard D. Winters,
Neal McDonough (Captain America: The First Avenger) as the
increasingly-troubled 1st Lt. Buck Compton, David Schwimmer (Friends) as
the insufferable Herman J. Sobel, Donnie Wahlberg (Saw II) as Sgt. C.
Carwood Lipton and Ron Livingston (Office Space) as Capt. Lewis Nixon are
particularly memorable -- but Easy Company itself is the central character. Old
members are killed and replaced by new ones; some characters fade into the
background while others become the center of attention. Through it all, the
soldiers remain devoted to each other despite intense conflicts and continue to
fight despite the overwhelming, soul-crushing environment they've been placed
in. While Winters perhaps gets more attention than any other figure, that's only
because he leads the men and is more frequently able to give us a better
perspective on Easy Company. The series masterfully juggles an enormous cast,
and the actors selflessly devote themselves to delivering whatever is required
of them (even if that means marching in the background over the course of an
entire episode without getting any significant lines).

One of the few miniseries that can honestly claim to be even more ambitious
than Band of Brothers is The Pacific, which takes on a daunting
collection of messier conflicts, more striking moral ambiguities and scenes with
an even larger scope. It broke Band of Brothers' record as the most
expensive television miniseries ever made, costing a whopping $200 million to
bring to the small screen. It falls just a notch short of being the masterpiece
that its predecessor was, but it can certainly be argued that The Pacific
was handed a considerably more difficult challenge: Band of Brothers
followed a single company through a variety of different locations, while The
Pacific follows numerous groups of individuals in an attempt to encapsulate
the entire Pacific War.

Though there are certainly moments of warmth and inspiration in The
Pacific, in general it's a chillier and more savage affair. The battle
scenes are raw and bloody to a degree that few moments in Band of
Brothers approach, and certain images are among the most harrowing things
I've seen on television. The midsection of the miniseries offers one hellish
battle sequence after another; few films have so effectively depicted war
(particularly WWII, which has too frequently been treated with cheap, sanitized
heroics) as a nightmare taking place in broad daylight. There are scenes here
which feel more like moments from a Vietnam film than a WWII flick. Sure, WWII
was "The Good War" and Vietnam was a national nightmare which led to
mass disillusionment, but such textbook classifications didn't make much
difference to the soldiers on the battlefield facing a seemingly endless barrage
of enemy fire, bloody corpses and loss of close friends.

Once again, the cast is sublime across the board. The names are generally
less recognizable than those who appear in Band of Brothers, but that's
only because the stars of Band of Brothers have had a full decade to make
a name for themselves in the years since (among the "nobodies" in the
former series: James McAvoy, Tom Hardy, Michael Fassbender, and Simon Pegg). The
strongest central performance comes from James Badge Dale (Rubicon) as
PFC Robert Leckie, whose assured presence and atypically thoughtful perspective
make him the center of the series. There's also some terrific acting from Rami
Malek (Larry Crowne) as the peculiar "Snafu" Shelton and from
Joseph Mazzello (Jurassic Park) as the scrawny, sensitive Eugene Sledge
(who was initially prevented from entering the war due to a heart condition).
The Pacific is simultaneously larger and more intimate than Band of
Brothers, dealing with a wider scope historically but zooming in more
intensely on individual characters. The approach works superbly for the
material, and Dale's measured cynicism suits this series much like Lewis'
unwavering devotion suited its predecessor.

Collectively, Band of Brothers and The Pacific provide a
moving, involving, intelligent, intense examination of WWII and the men who
fought it. Though the former is the better of the two series on its own terms,
the two miniseries work together remarkably well as a larger effort (with
Saving Private Ryan serving as a tremendous prologue). They are
emotionally exhausting yet unfailingly watchable; don't be surprised if you end
up plowing through an entire series in one or two marathon viewing sessions.
These two series put the vast majority of WWII films to shame; they boast a
level of craftsmanship and attention to historical detail which has rarely (if
ever) been matched.

Now, as for this specific collection: the central appeal of this handsomely
packaged box set is that it houses both previously released series in a single
package. If you don't already own the Blu-ray releases, Band of Brothers/The
Pacific (Blu-ray) Special Edition Gift Set is the way to go. The discs are
housed in a sturdy, attractive hardbound book featuring thick cardboard pages.
It's very similar to the packaging used on The Alien Anthology and
Avatar Blu-ray sets, but thicker and about twice as long (admittedly,
this set will be a little tricky to find a place for on the shelf). The book is
contained with a simple but sturdy cardboard box which seals magnetically. The
1080p transfers, DTS HD 5.1 Master Audio tracks and supplements included are
identical to what was offered in the previous collections; I'll refer you to the
superb, comprehensive reviews by Judges Dan Mancini and Gordon Sullivan for more
detailed rundowns of both.

The one new supplement offered by this collection is contained on a bonus
disc sandwiched between the two series. It's a 53-minute documentary entitled
"He Has Seen War," and it offers interviews with veterans featured
prominently in both miniseries (primarily The Pacific). The doc explores
the mental and social challenges soldiers faced upon returning home from WWII,
and outlines in heartbreaking detail the general public's inability to deal with
the PTSD many returning soldiers were experiencing. It's a sensitive yet
enormously depressing look at a largely neglected period in America history;
events which were brushed to the side while victory parades took center stage.
It's a small addition but an exceptional one; it does a superb job of exploring
themes both miniseries quietly introduce.

The price tag on this box set is a little steep (at the moment, you can buy
the pair of individually packaged miniseries for less), but the collection is
very highly recommended if you don't mind spending a few extra bucks. The two
miniseries are among the best television has produced, the box set looks nice
and the lone new supplement is a terrific addition to an already-impressive
package.